


Ball Kings

by youllneverrecme



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Anal Sex, Anal toys, Blow Jobs, Bottom Mickey Milkovich, Coworkers to lovers, Dildos, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Ian/other men, It's a job, M/M, Mickey/toys, Non-Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Porn Industry AU, Porn Star AU, Rimming, Sex Club, Sexual Content, Top Ian Gallagher, Unbeta'd, demisexual mickey milkovich, ian/other men is non-romantic, pierced Mickey Milkovich, porn convention, porn star ian gallagher, porn star mickey milkovich
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:00:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29383134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youllneverrecme/pseuds/youllneverrecme
Summary: Ian is a well known porn star.  Mickey is the new guy at Ball Kings Porn.  He's mouthy and annoying.  But Ian can't keep his eyes off him.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 22
Kudos: 163





	1. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a porn AU. So I mean it when I tagged Ian/other men. They are in the porn industry. That means they have sex with other people.

Ian tips his head back, pushes his chest out, groans out a loud moan as his orgasm hits. Feeling the spasm of Owen around him, smooths a hand down his back and into the bowed dip of it as he shudders with his face buried in his arms. He watches his hands leave a glistening trail of lube along his dark skin, pumps his hips a few more times to ride out his aftershocks before he pulls out and turns his hips for the camera to get the best view. His freckled hand a stark contrast to Owen's back, to the globes of his ass as Ian spreads them open. Giving the camera a good view of his cum trailing out with the tip of his dick. 

Owen is still breathing heavily. Cam A on his face while he turns his head to look back at Ian with a grin. Ian goes with it. He has chemistry with Owen. And Ball Kings didn't get to the top of the game by pairing dudes who don't have chemistry. V is very specific about who partners with whom. They've grown a working relationship with not only the porn stars but also the camera operators and the directors. V often directs the shoots for these two since they are her top grossing stars currently. 

Owen makes good show of clenching and giving Cam B all the close up of his blown out hole before he reaches back to tug on Ian's arm. Ian climbs onto the bed, making sure to flex every muscle before he grasps Owen's hips to toss his legs to the side, climbing over him and covering his mouth with his own. Owen's a good cam kisser. They've gotten their roles down to a T. Making is appear as though they're intimate, they're kissing each other out of enjoyment not because they're getting paid for it. And it's not bad kissing, it's just thought out and planned. Just like the sex. Everything is scripted. It's still enjoyable, it's sex for fuck's sake, of course it's enjoyable. And Owen's a good lay. He's a great bottom, tight and it's clear he's more than happy to take a fat cock like Ian's. 

It's a little strange to know so much about a guy he'd never date. Nothing against him. They're just better as friends. Which is maybe why it's been so easy to shoot with him. They know each other well enough to know sex codes. 

Owen is not the only one Ian fucks. But their series of videos are the most popular on Ball Kings' website, popular enough that Ian got his first invite this year to the porn shows in Vegas in February. There's even rumor they've been nominated for a Cocksucker, but the official nods won't be announced until next week.

"And cut." V's voice enters his head just as he's drawing back from the kiss, "good work. I'll take it to the cutting room tomorrow and see what we need to refilm." 

The sound of camera equipment being taken down and people shuffling around the set. The lights dimming and filtering into Ian's head. He rolls over to his back, throwing an arm over his face. They'll lay here, in all their lubed up and cum filled glory until it's just the two of them and V. She'll give them a run through of what they did right and what they need to work on. She'll have ideas for how to angle properly for the reshoot. She never makes them run through the scene again in one day. She prefers her porn to be realistic, avoiding fake semen and weak orgasms at all costs. She's a little picky about her foreplay scenes and the more intimate bits of the shoot, but the sex is usually pretty easy. Letting the stars go with what they're good at. 

Ian lays on top of the sheets, he's got nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of. These people have seen every part of him. And he makes good money that way. He lets the cool air begin to dry the sweat on his skin while he listens to V's perspective on today's work. Owen's body heat close, but not touching while he listens and adds his input. Ian nods along, feeling bone tired now after spending half his day knuckle deep in tight ass, with a raging hard-on while he waited for penetration. He's built up a lot of stamina over the last two years he's worked here. But the waiting is still torture. 

"I will have Foxy text you the details for our next shoot." V offers them both a clean robe, clearly stating without saying a thing that it's time to get the hell off her set and get cleaned up so she can get home in time for dinner.

Ian responds with a salute, dragging himself to the edge of the bed to tug the robe on. If he stayed lying down for any longer he'd pass out here and not even have to go home between shoots. But he's still got some weightlifting to do tonight and a lean protein meal to cook. Keeping his body fit, flexible, and muscled has never been a burden for him. He enjoys the order in it. The lack of surprises in his day when he can schedule out his entire week on Sunday night, prep his meals and fill in his planner. 

He fist-bumps Owen on his way by, giving him a, "good work today," over his shoulder when he exits the door.

Down the hallway he can hear voices from V's office. It's late for them to be having a meeting but that's what is sounds like. Kev and Foxy must have started the meeting early. Either that or V is in no mood to be trifled with as she starts quickly by ordering more than asking, "what can you bring to Ball Kings?"

Ian can hear the stranger snort, his voice is gravel and dirt and sends a tingle of intrigue through Ian as he begins speaking, "I can bring shit to the table that you don't have. You guys got a lot of categories, and a lot of stars. You're premium. But there is one thing you are lacking severely."

"Severely?" V sounds pissed.

Ian feels himself smirk as he starts walking towards the office. The door is cracked just slightly. Just enough that if he is quiet enough and plays his angles right, he'll be able to see whoever this is that dare challenge V's business model. "Severely." The voice responds with nothing but cocky confidence in his tone.

"Well," V huffs out, "tell me first where you got your business degree."

"Don't have one. But I've got experience watching porn. And I gotta tell you, you're missing solo male bottoms. Specifically. And severely." He adds the last part with a whole lot of dare in his voice.

Ian inches forward further. He _needs_ to see this guy's face. To see if it matches his voice. If it matches the cocky cadences in his tone.

V is quiet for a long enough moment that Foxy offers, "we have been meaning to send out casting calls for solo male bottoms."

"Well it looks like Mr Milkovich here beat us to the punch." V responds. Ian can picture her expression right now. Looking at whoever this guy is like she's taking him apart in her mind already. He seems to have thrown her for a loop and she hasn't been able to voice it yet. She eventually clears her throat and Ian takes a few more steps forward, nearly to the door now. "You have a half an hour to impress me." The sound of her chair being pulled out from behind her desk, "do you need time to get started?"

"Do I look like an amateur? Someone who'd show up to an interview without prepping first?" The guy responds. Ian cranes his neck to peer into the office before the guy can get out of the chair and move over towards the casting room. His breath gets punched out of his chest when his eyes land on the ink-black hair, the snow white skin, and the cocky eyebrow lift over the pale blue of piercing eyes. 

"Holy fuck," Ian hears himself whisper. Watching the guy get to his feet. Revealing muscled shoulders, a strong broad back that tapers into narrow hips and a perky ass. 

"Is that your natural hair color?" V wonders when he's standing.

"Yeah." He stays where he stands, cocking his head and waiting for V to nod before he pulls off his long-sleeved shirt, "the tats you can see already. Hafada and frenum piercings. Working on a Jacob's ladder."

V hums a response. Ian feels his mouth watering and he swallows it down, listening for anyone in the office to start moving towards the door. He really had no desire to get busted.

"Solo only?"

"Yeah. I don't work with partners. Never will."

Fuck. Ian feels his stomach twist, wanting to barge into the office and offer a hand at the very least.

"Can I ask why?"

"You can ask. But I don't gotta answer."

V snorts, "fair enough. Let's move to the casting room and you can show me what you've got."

Fighting every urge in his body to go in there, reserve a spot in the casting room and watch. Instead he pulls himself away from the door, hurries down to the locker room before he can get caught out here and keeps his fingers crossed that this guy will get hired and it won't be the last he sees of him.

###

_you go to work in the morning, fuck all day, come home and have nothing to say about it?_

Ian rolls his eyes at the text, doesn't bother responding to his brother and goes about putting his dinner together. 

_dude you fuck all day._

_for your job_

It's Carl. Of course he's not going to leave Ian alone until he answers.

_Balls deep all day. Tired. Leave me alone._

Thankfully, the phone doesn't vibrate. He's going to see him tomorrow anyway, he can ask his burning questions about the porn industry then. Truthfully, Ian is tired. Not of the job. It's easier than a relationship. He goes to work five days a week, get's blown, fucked, or jerked off and comes home satisfied. To an empty house. Where no one leaves their dirty underwear laying around, or stinky shoes in the way, no one to roll out of bed without making it in the morning. There's no one sitting across the table at him at dinner. Or making noise in the kitchen when he's trying to listen to the news. Or scrolling through Netflix to find the next series they're going to binge. 

Ian sighs. Taking his plate to the couch to pick out whatever he wants to watch, not having to take into account what anyone else wants. "Maybe it's time for a dog." He tells his steaming plate as he scrolls mindlessly through the menu. 

###

He doesn't see Mr Milkovich the next day at work. Even though he cranes his neck around every corner and into every room as discreetly as possible to see if there are any additions to the workforce. He doesn't want to ask V. It'd be too obvious. Then she would stick her nose it it and probably set them up on an awkward date that he'd regret horribly. 

They run through the talking points. They get naked. He rims the hell out of Owen, get's his cock sucked and leaves for the weekend knowing next week will start a new scene. This time it'll be with Jody who can suck his own cock, so Ian really just has to be there to rig up his swing, and tie his bindings, stroking himself while he toys Jody's ass. It's not complicated. Jody's the one who goes through all the work when they work together. He's kind of a weird guy, but he's easy to work with so Ian isn't going to complain. With Owen on vacation, his replacement partner could be a lot more awkward than Jody.

He paid for a car service to pick up his brothers at the airport and told the doorman to just let them up. So he expected them to be there by the time he got home. Going through his things, making a mess, and drinking his beers. It's good to see them even if they are mostly a pain in his ass. Carl wanting to know everything about how porn is filmed, even if Ian tells him it ruins the mystique if you know all of it. Lip grunting, smoking, and generally adding whatever genius bullshit he can add to the conversation when it's needed. He's here in New York for a job interview with some big tech corporation. But he has no desire to take the job when it's offered. He's a Chicago kid, he'll always be. Ian just hopes he realizes his full potential before he turns this one down, if he would just put in the work in NY and suck it up for a few years he can move back to Chicago once he proves himself to the company. They'll keep him on and let him work remotely. But he can't just go in there demanding that from the jump. Which is something Ian tells him. He responds by rolling his eyes, stomping out his cig and reentering the loft to drink another beer. 

At least the tech company paid for their tickets. They would have paid for accommodations and Ian is starting to think he should have let them when he sees Carl's feet up on the coffee table. He sighs to himself, hangs both their jackets on the hooks instead of on the armchair where they left them and settles in with his phone to zone in and out of the game that they've got on the big screen. 

###

It's Monday when he hears Mr Milkovich's voice again. This time it's in one of the filming rooms. If he can hear it, then the door is open. The rooms are soundproofed so as long as the door is closed it isn't like anyone can just walk down the hall and listen to moans and shouts, slaps, headboard banging, or whipping. There are designated rooms for certain fetishes so that the more messy fetishes don't overlap into the vanilla rooms. Vanilla rooms being what V likes to call the pairings that are more likely to never use props, to fuck missionary, and to kiss on the lips. Ian falls mostly into the vanilla category, but he doesn't mind being a prop in the more hardcore rooms when he's needed. Whips, chains, gang bangs aren't really his thing but depending on the amount of zeros following the offer on paper he's been known to dabble. He doesn't need to dabble much now that he's got a fanbase that's pretty loyal and his fanbase expects vanilla, so he'll give vanilla.

"Honestly, I'm a little surprised she agreed to this so easily." It's Foxy's voice that Ian hears first. 

"Yeah, well I told her I'd have over a hundred subscribers after the first video gets posted, so buckle up buttercup."

"Foxy actually, but thanks for generalizing."

Ian finds himself smirking as he listens in on their conversation. The guy looks rough around the edges, not someone who would ask people their proper pronouns much less their name before he designated them with a nickname.

"What the fuck ever it is, or whatever you are, either help me set this shit up or get out of my way."

Ian stifles a snicker with his hand over his mouth as Foxy scoffs and next thing he sees is him hustling through the door, probably to tell V that he's just been offended by the new kid. Ian steps into the doorway that was left open, taking in the sight of the man who's hustling around the place, setting up toy stations and marking x's on the floor for the cameras. Stuff that a director and the film crew normally do. 

"You used to doing all your own filming?" Ian asks.

The guy doesn't even look up at the intrusion. "Yeah. I am actually, so if you're not going to help, then get the fuck out."

Mouthy. And hot as hell. He can think of about ten different things he'd like to do to that mouth as soon as Milkovich turns his head, giving him a straight-on view of his face. And wow. He would look good on his knees, face tilted up. Ian shudders at the thought, then shakes it off and introduces himself. "Ian Gallagher," with his hand extended for shake.

Milkovich waves him off before he can even step all the way across the room to reaching distance. "I got shit to do here. So this has been nice and all tough guy, but like I said unless you're here to help then do me a favor and fuck off."

Ian's entire body bristles at his words, instead of calling him out on being an asshole to his coworkers, he decides to just leave. Let him be, he'll get fired soon enough. As soon as V hears his mouth and witnesses his attitude towards his fellow actors, he'll be out the door. No matter how many subscribers he can pull after just one video.


	2. Two

The week with Jody goes as Ian expected. He's exhausted by the amount of props, but it never ceases to amaze him what Jody is willing and eager to do. Sometimes he wonders if his mental state is okay, but with the amount of screenings they do for health at Ball Kings he can't imagine that Jody could be hiding a sex addiction. His cock twitches and leeks when he presses the ass gaper past his rim and watches his belly hollow out. Gripping the swing with both hands and guiding the gaper with the flat of his lower abs. He watches Jody's face to any hints of needing to pull back or slow down. It's only Wednesday, they still have the rest of this week and the next to get this all done. But Jody's face is nothing but pure bliss. 

In Ian's mind it morphs into Milkovich's face. His cock aches for release at the image when he eyes Jody's pushed open hole, the way it's swallowing the large plug effortlessly. And Jody isn't even a pure bottom. Ian can only imagine what the hole of a pure bottom who toys on cam on a regular basis could do, could take, could stretch for. 

His hips stutter when he's deep enough that his cock-head is brushing against the cleft of Jody's ass. Jody groans and shudders at the contact, at the base of the plug pushing against his rim. Resting there. Holding him wide open. 

Ian licks his lips, aware of the cam angles as he leans back to let the view of Jody's plugged ass have full display on film. He releases the swing with one hand, drags it over Jody's thigh and takes his own cock in his hand. Bumping the head of it against the base of the plug. Jody's muscles tense and spasm with pleasure of the plug being jostled with Ian's cock. Tapping again and getting the same response. 

Jody says whatever line is in the script. It enters Ian's head in that gravelly and gruff voice of the brunette he hasn't seen all week. He's thinking he must have already been let go. That attitude won't get him far no matter how many subscribers he has. Ian is certain of it. There hasn't been any word around the office, no welcome to the job cock cakes and testicle balloons. 

By the time they wrap for the day the Cocksucker noms have been announced. Ian's pleased and unsurprised when he's got noms for Best Top and Best AssLicker. He knows it takes a few years and a large library of works before he'll get the coveted nom for Best Cock. A piece he did with Owen is nom'd for Best Short Fuck. They'll have to do better next year and get into the category of Long Fuck. But since Long Fucks usually require fake jizz, and multiple orgasms it would either have to be filmed over weeks to get the natural feel that V demands, or they'd just have to suck it up and use the fake stuff. By the time he retires he plans to have an entire wall of Cocksuckers. 

###

It's Thursday when he decides it's safe to pull up Ball Kings' website. To his shock, the banner up top is 'Welcome inside our newest Ball King' with a gorgeous layout of Milkovich. His piercings on full display, his cock hard and beautiful wrapped in his FUCK hand while his other hand is displaying his perfect hole. Index and middle finger spreading it to show the pink giving way to red and falling into the dark depths of his insides. Ian shivers at the image. Chastises himself for being so turned on by a coworker he's barely met but already knows him well enough to know he's an asshole. His face is showing just enough to see a cocky smirk on his sinful lips and a twinkle in his eyes that might as well be inviting everyone who looks at it to get inside him. 

Ian knows he'll regret it, but he clicks the banner. He's immediately directed to a casting room couch clip. The caption on the screen reads, 'Terry. Audition One.' So his stage name is Terry. Not the sexiest choice Ian has ever heard, but none of the Ball Kings have exorbitant stage names. Ian's porn alter ego is Curtis. It works. Milkovich gives a few answers to a few questions, the same ones V had asked him about his hair color, his piercings, his tats. He talks about loving bottoming, getting hard just thinking about having a fat sleek cock in his ass. 

He shouldn't do it, but he clicks the link to his video when the interview is over. And there he is spread out on the couch with a dildo in his ass. He's biting his lips red and swollen. He's tweaking his nipples and his cock is hard and leaking where it lies untouched on his belly. He turns for the cam to get a better angle, getting up to his knees, bracing one hand on the wall behind the couch and sliding the glass dildo in and out, in and out. Slow drags that make him grunt, the muscles in his back flexing and releasing with his pleasure. His head drops, hanging down as his movement gets faster. His back dipping dangerously low to give the cam full view of his hole and his tight drawn up balls with the line of silver piercings like a trail begging to be licked. 

Ian's cock twitches, grazing his zipper inside his pants and he doesn't even think twice about tugging down his fly, digging out his cock that should be spent after a full day of work but is quickly plumping to full hardness. The girth of it fills his hand, fingers barely closing around it. Sometimes in real life it's been a bitch to find a partner who can take him. That's part of the reason he ended up in porn as a career instead of just a passing phase. He did a few cheap films when he first moved out here, just to pay rent, telling himself he'd go to school once he had some cash and he'd start a career that was respectable. But when he met V after seeing her ad for recruiting, he thought this had the potential to be a respectable career and a fat pocketbook. After having the tour of Ball Kings studio he was sold. He figures if he saves right and if he lives within his means he can retire before he hits forty. And in the meantime have no-strings-attached sex with people who like fat, long cock. 

Milkovich's performance is breathtaking. He wasn't lying about enjoying bottoming. The way he arches into it, and toys himself in earnest while still giving the camera a good view. His moans and grunts sound real and Ian wishes he could see his face as his rhythm and speed start picking up. His hole tightening in a telltale sign that he's close to orgasming. Ian's cock is already leaking cum down over his crown, he smears it with his thumb to slicken up his grip, sliding it down the shaft. He feels his mouth fall open when Milkovich cums onscreen. His gasps and choked breaths, the clenching of his hole as he pulls the toy out to show the camera that glorious opening. He never even touches his cock and there is jizz splattering the couch in front of him when he lets go of the toy to tug his rim open. To show the hot, wet interior of his hole. 

"Fuck," Ian groans, spilling his seed out over his fist that quickly. He's a seasoned pro, sex is his job, stamina is his thing and all it took from this Milkovich was a three minute clip before he's cumming all over himself. That is talent. No wonder he's such a cocky prick with such a shitty attitude.

###

Friday by the time he figures he can ask Foxy about it. He snorts, sniffs out something about that bastard with a chip on his shoulder and dismisses Ian easily. So he goes to the next best option that isn't V.

"Yo Kev." He knocks on the doorjamb and waits for Kev to nod at him before he enters the office. Kev is on the phone, looking very confused about whatever is happening on the other end. So Ian busies himself wandering around the office, looking at pictures from last year's awards shows. It's a full week long celebration and he's never been. Judging by these photos everyone who is anyone goes at least for the Carpet events and the awards show. He doesn't pay attention to Kev's side of the conversation, only hearing enough to know that he's talking to someone about the lunch menus for the week. 

By the time he hangs up Ian has craned his neck over the papers on the desk to see a file marked M Milkovich. Probably his contract. So they're in contract negotiation phase already and still haven't made an announcement to the lineup. Strange. He pretends he wasn't reading it when Kev looks up and says, "what can I do you for Gallagher?"

He used to be a bartender. And probably still is at heart. "It would take a lot to get to do me Kev," he responds as he slumps down in the chair.

"I don't know about that," he grins when he pulls a bottle of scotch out of his desk and wiggles it in Ian's face.

He nods to accept that drink and watches Kev pour it, cutting him off with a hand motion after a single shot, "gotta get home somehow."

"What the subway is for. Or a taxi."

"Solid point."

He pours more. And Ian accepts it more gratefully than he thought he would. He loosens him up with a few more drinks and an air of just being in here to chat and catch up, not actually having motive for coming in. When Kev's fingers graze over the file on his desk, Ian sees his opening.

"Got a new teammate?"

"Oh this one," he sounds equal parts proud and worried. 

"Uh oh, that sounds complicated."

"It is. I think. He's good, he's got a video up that's already got more views in the first three days than the majority of our videos get in their first week. And after just one, he's got over a hundred subscribers. But he seems really high maintenance. Like, get this: he told us we weren't allowed to have a welcome party."

"What?" Ian wonders incredulously. The welcome party is a rite of passage. Eating a cock shaped cake and having testicle balloons cuffed to your wrists with frilly pink handcuffs while everyone hangs out in the meeting room in their thongs. 

"Said he doesn't work with anyone. He'll take care of his own set up every time. He'll never use a partner. He just needs a cameraman who won't talk to him. And that's all."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Oh is right," Kev downs the last of his drink. "I don't think I've ever been around someone so demanding and I'm married to V! So I know demanding. But there's something about him. V always says porn isn't necessarily about the body, the look of the subject but it's about confidence. And this guy oozes it."

Ian almost says he's got the most amazing ass he's ever seen and his cock is pretty fucking hot too. But he doesn't need Kev knowing he was already creeping on his coworker when he's trying to act like he knows nothing about him. 

"Helps that he fills a void in the gay porn industry." Kev shrugs, "anyway, what can I do for you? I should probably wrap up here and get my drunk ass home."

"Oh yeah. That. I just wanted to see what was on schedule for next week."

Kev gestures vaguely in the direction of his top drawer and announces he has to drain the main vein so Ian can just lock up the office when he's done.

There's nothing on Ian's schedule that surprises him. He knows already he'll have two days to reshoot V's requested scenes with Jody. They'll have two days to look over the film and decide if they want to reshoot anything else and then on Friday they'll do any voice-overs that need to be done. Typically with V at the wheel these things go smoothly, the retakes are minimal since she runs such a tight ship on set. She can usually catch it immediately if something is off and fix it live before it even needs to be brought all the way around to reshoot. Fuck, she makes this easy. Though the longest scene he's ever shot is twenty minutes and he's sure if he ever did a full length it would take much more than two weeks start to finish. 

He pulls back the first page of the Ball Kings schedule after scanning it over for Milkovich. He's not on the first or the second page. His name doesn't appear until two weeks out. Two weeks. That is a long time. And he's only booked for one day. How does he expect to keep the interest of his fans if he only posts when he feels like it? If he only works part time, not even part time? 

Ian sighs, puts the schedule back in the desk and locks up behind himself when he leaves the building to head home to his nice, perfectly empty loft. 

###

He eats his lean protein meal, does his nightly work out, and when he lies awake for twenty minutes without being able to fall asleep he pulls out his phone and tries to find any trail for Milkovich. The only Terry Milkovich he can find is on some dating site for over-fifty that looks more like a place to purchase a mail-order bride from Russia than a place to find love. If he could narrow his searching to a particular region it'd be different but there seem to be Milkoviches all over the place and quite a few of them begin with M. If he could figure out why he chose the name Terry. Ian clicks back into the Terry porn actor search and finds a few hits on a different porn site. Not the highest quality but not the worst either. There are twenty videos. Not a great library, but if he's just a beginner in the business which Ian strongly suspects, then it's not bad either. Judging by the thumbnails they are all solo. And judging by the thumbnails he's going to have to check these out, watch every single one of them. For research. Getting to know a new coworker is all. A new coworker who keeps to himself and probably will never join in the old water cooler gossip, not that that actually exists in a studio that films gay porn. The gossip yes, but water cooler gatherings, no.

Ian is two minutes into the first one, one where Milkovich is just fingering himself. Not a toy in sight. This was shot before his piercings but his smooth waxed skin looks delectable. Ian's cock is already filled, hard and yearning for touch. This would be embarrassing if anyone ever found out how quickly watching this guy fuck his fingers makes Ian cum.

###

Friday's filming is hard to make it through. He's tired, his dick is sore from all the jerking off he did. When he stifles a yawn while tightening Jody's nipple clamps, V asks him with zero amusement in her tone if he had a fun night last night. 

"Ask your husband." He shoots back at her with a wink. 

She rolls her eyes but announces, "scotch makes him frisky."

Ian snorts out a laugh, sure he can blame it on the scotch too. He had some scotch with Kev, picked up a hot date off grindr and fucked late into the night. That's the real reason his dick is chafed and he can barely keep his eyes open, much less focus on the spread in front of him. Every time he blinks it's Milkovich and his hot ass in Ian's eyelids. Fuck, he needs to lay off. There's no use in becoming a fanboy for some cocky asshole who can't even be a team player. He needs to go out tonight, mingle with some single men and get this guy off his mind. 

Easier said than done when he walks in his favorite club at the end of the day and the first person his eyes land on is a stocky brunette with piercing eyes and a cocky smirk on his face.


	3. Three

Ian pretends he didn't see the guy, and the guy probably wouldn't recognize him as a coworker if he did recognize him at all. He slides to the opposite side of the horseshoe bare, a place where he can keep his eyes on Milkovich but not be creeping on him. He knows a few of the people seated here already so it's easy to fit in. This place isn't a gay bar but it's queer friendly with trans nights, drag nights, lesbian nights, and gay nights. The typical Friday night is just a mixed bag of everything. It's the kind of crowd that Ian likes. He can blend in a little, but stick out a little at the same time. He can find a hook-up if he wants, or a group of friends, he can find a straight girl who just wants to chat it up with the token queer. It's no difference to him as long as the atmosphere is happy and friendly then he'll have fun. It's his night off, he earned it, he always earns it. He doesn't drink often, hating the way it makes him feel bloated the day after, knowing full well that he has to keep his body fit for the course of his career. A big cock will only get a person so far, people want to watch high quality porn they want good looking, fit actors. 

His eyes trail over the bar, across the where Milkovich is sitting with some girl and two guys. Maybe that's why he solos, he's actually straight. No. There's no way a guy who likes ass play that much is straight. Trying to keep his eyes slightly averted, he can hear some of their words through the din of the crowd. They seem to be having a good time. The longer the night drags on, the more people join them and the louder their group gets. It looks like the old parties Ian is used to from the Southside. And fuck he wants to go over there. Every time he hears Milkovich laugh his ears perk up and his heart thuds. His palms are beginning to sweat even around his cold beer with every glance he allows himself over there, trying like hell not to get caught looking. By the time midnight rolls around, he is surrounded by flirty guys who clearly are trying their best to take him home and he is brushing every single one of them off. 

Ian can't pay attention to the group he's with, their words and conversations just sort of dancing around him. One of his buddies nudges him at one point and asks if he's feeling alright since he's been so quiet all evening. The bartender calls him out on staring holes through the hottie across the bar. But he can't even bring himself to get offended. It's the damn truth. If he has one more beer he'll get up and go over there, ask him to dance. Ian is good at dancing, at speaking with his body the things he can't quite find with his words. He can show Milkovich how he can work his hips, how he can work with a partner, how he could fuck him if he'd let him. But by the time he's finished with his beer Milkovich is making his way through the crowd with the dark-haired girl on his arm. Fuck. They look so alike, they either have to be related or he's so into his own looks that he found a girlfriend who looks just like him. Neither one would surprise Ian at this point.

At the door, Ian swears he throws a smirk over his shoulder directly at Ian. It sends his stomach into a frenzy of butterflies and he can barely finish his drink before he's headed back home to scour the internet for more videos. 

###

He hits the jackpot after about an hour of searching tonight. Finding a grainy, kind of old looking video, probably uploaded directly from a phone. Pre-piercings, pre-tats he looks pretty damn young but still over eighteen. So Ian feels no guilt in watching. And watch he does. A set of anal beads that would make a seasoned porn actor blush. A few expressions towards the camera like he's daring anyone watching to bend him over and fuck him proper. It only takes two of the beads passing his rim before Ian is leaking into his hand, he releases his hold, wanting this to last, wanting to tease himself all through the video no matter the length. He wants to cum with Milkovich, he wants to release when his hole is shuddering with his orgasm, he wants to be able to have the full view while he fantasizes over having his cock buried deep through that ringed muscle, well beyond the pink, into the red, and swallowed to the depths of him. 

###

He wakes up on Saturday morning feeling ashamed of himself for jerking off once again to a coworker. Not that he's never done that in the past - it was V who told him to scour the site when she first hired him, see which faces, which bodies, which kinks he preferred and she'd pair him appropriately. So he spent the weekend before his first day in the studio searching for a hole he thought could take him, would ride him, would get him hard even if he wasn't completely in the mood when he walked in the door. He knew for his first shoot, with the cameras and the extra people around he'd need someone he was turned the fuck on by, someone he'd get hard for, someone he'd feel comfortable with that wouldn't be trying to tie him down or asking him to piss on them. He has nothing against kinks, any kinks, everyone has a different one. He just wasn't ready for that kind of stuff in the beginning. Sure, now he's done some things he never dreamed of doing, and he'll be the first to admit that some of them turned him on in ways he didn't think possible. So even if his usual speed is vanilla, that doesn't mean he doesn't have a wild streak that he likes to tap into from time to time. It's a well-rounded porn star that is going to get the most subscribers and after two years he's nearly to two thousand. A platform that few make it to in such a short time. 

He goes for his morning run through Central Park. Stopping in a clearing to stretch when he's finished and like the universe is plotting against him, he sees the girl that was with Milkovich last night in a group of yoga people. He takes a moment when she's unguarded to look her over, the lines of her body and the color of her hair, her skin, her sharp clear eyes when they dart over his direction when she feels eyes on her. And yeah, he'd recognize that smirk anywhere. Between the coloring and the expressions, this is definitely the guy's sister, not his girlfriend. Relief settles over his shoulders and he chastises himself for thinking about his coworker that way. Again. Peeling his eyes off her when he feels a presence near him. Looming over him actually.

He cranes his head to see who is blocking the late Autumn sun from his place on the grass.

"You stalking me big red?" His eyes are shielded with sunglasses, his mouth is pursed in annoyance and he's dressed in work-out clothes.

"I should be asking you the same thing," Ian grins at him. Easy and charming even if he feels anything but. "I suddenly seem to be bumping into you when I'm just out and about doing my usual routine."

"Does your usual routine include staring at my sister?"

Thank fuck it's his sister. Ian nearly gets up to do a dance for joy at hearing that. Instead he plays it cool, "how do you know it was her? Maybe I was looking at the lady next to her with the hairy armpits."

Milkovich snorts, "sure. Right."

A moment of quiet passes between them before Ian wonders, "so you're the new guy?"

He chews his lip for awhile, and even if Ian can't see his eyes, he knows he's being examined thoroughly. "Yeah I guess so."

"Ian." Remembering how he reacted to his handshake offer the other day, he decides against offering his hand this time and gestures toward himself instead. 

"Mickey." He half-smirks at Ian's gesturing, but he must decide he appreciates the lack of handshaking offer so instead keeps his mouth shut.

"You live around here?"

He cocks his head towards the general vicinity of Ian's building. "Sister and I signed a lease last week. One bedroom that we probably can't afford, but figure fuck it. You only life once, right?" There's almost a smile rising on his lips and Ian thinks it might be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

He feels himself returning the expression and agreeing, "rent around here is insane but if you got the job," he doesn't say the name of the company, thinking that some people are a little more private about their line of work than Ian is. Maybe his own sister doesn't even know what he does for money. "Then you'll be getting a decent paycheck in no time. They treat their employees right. As long as you put in the work," he adds as an afterthought, when he remembers the guy's light schedule. Mickey, he reminds himself, the guy's name is Mickey.

He grunts a response that Ian doesn't bother trying to decipher. By the time his sister is done with her class the chit-chat seems companionable. He introduces her as Mandy, she reaches for Ian's hand and starts peppering him with questions about the neighborhood. By the time he leaves he at least has her number and he didn't miss the half-cocked brow on Mickey's face when he was typing his into her phone. A half-cocked brow could mean anything, but he gets the firm impression it means that if the two of them are going to be friends then he better keep what he knows about Mickey to his damn self or he'll end up gutted and left for dead on the street corner. 

###

Sunday he offers to meet Mandy for lunch and show her around the neighborhood some. She seems more laid back and easier to chat with than Mickey. She lets him in on a little background info on the guy that Ian can't get out of his head. Mickey moved to New York about a month ago after Mandy broke up with her boyfriend and felt alone in the big city, but didn't want to go back home to LA either. Mickey came out to visit to ease the break-up transition and just ended up staying. 

Mandy has some kind of corporate job that's low enough level she's basically someone's assistant right now but she plans to work her way up and just deal with shitty money and being a coffee bitch, at least it's a foot in the door. And that is the attitude that Ian wishes Lip would have. 

"Mickey is still looking for something, but he had some luck at an interview last week." She divulges, "a broadcasting company. Part time."

"Broadcasting, hmm?" He supposes it's only a partial lie, but that just confirms what he had thought about Mickey being private about his career choice.

"It's a start." She shrugs, "so what do you do?"

And this is where he has to test out the room. Typically people his own age are more willing to see it for what it is: a job. A good paying job. But then there's the churchy types who think he'll burn in hell for fucking for money. And there's the plain old prudes who think he's a walking STI. When in all reality they get tested so often at Ball Kings that he has a way higher chance of getting an infection from a one-night-stand, or a weeklong hook-up, or even a relationship than he does from work. 

There's also the awkwardness when someone recognizes him, and they can't figure out why and then it's the 'oh do you work at the coffee shop on ninth?' or 'maybe the whole foods?' or such and such cafe. Depending on where and who is around he likes to see the reaction when he tells them it's porn actually that they recognize him from. 

Judging by her personality so far he has no reason to be bashful about his career so he just admits it. "I work in porn actually."

"Really?" Mandy wonders without judgment in her tone, "what's that like?"

"Gay porn to be precise. It's not bad, really. I work for Ball Kings, they're a really great company. If you get into a shitty company or a sleazy set or have a degrading producer it can be a horrible job choice, but I really lucked out honestly. Place I work is clean, professional, and the pay is really good."

"No shit?" Mandy is smiling brilliantly like she just discovered the answer to all her life's desires. "Tell me more," she urges, "if you are comfortable with that, I mean."

"Oh sure," Ian agrees and finds himself talking about his line of work more openly than he has in a long time to anyone other than his coworkers. She doesn't ask any of the nosy, inappropriate questions that a lot of people do. She seems more interested in the filming aspect, how they produce it, how long it takes to film, what kind of requirements it takes to get behind a camera. He gets the sense that she's asking on behalf of her brother, like maybe he's got a dream of producing. That would explain things about Milkovich. Getting his foot in the door by being on film, knowing he's got the body, attitude, and insatiable look when he's got a dildo in his ass that works perfectly for solo work. Doing solo work to avoid getting into any kind of partner type relationship or having any other actors relying on him when he makes his move to get behind the cam. Also, filming his own stuff is a pretty good indicator of his aspirations. Smart moves. 

Ian also gets it, the whole keeping it from the family thing. He didn't tell Fi right away. Knowing she'd have some concerns about it and he wouldn't blame her for it, she's practically his mother she should have concerns for him. So he waited until he had felt out the scene, knew more about V and Kev, knew more about the sets and how they were run. He waited until he could tell her with certainty that he was being treated well and he wasn't pressured into a thing.

Mickey's secret is safe with him. And maybe he can talk him into dinner sometime by using the information he's gathered here from his sister, after all Ian does already have plenty of working knowledge of how Ball Kings is run. He'd have to broach the subject of his shitty attitude with him somehow in a constructive manner. Dating a coworker is probably a horrible idea. And clearly this guy has some boundaries that need to be respected that Ian is not used to. But he's pretty damn certain he'd do just about anything to get Mickey to spend some time with him, he'd most likely be walking around with a half-hard cock if he ever did get to spend any time alone with him but it would be worth it.


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The character names used do not reflect the canon characters.

The remainder of Sunday is easy. It's such a routine day that Ian can be on autopilot for it. He has to work out a little bit extra to burn off the drinks he had on Friday, and the restaurant meal he had with Mandy but that's no big deal. He enjoys working out. Then it's time to fill out the planner, prep himself mentally for the work week, prep his meals and FaceTime with Fi. Usually the entire family. And it never takes long before the phone is just set on the table and he's resigned to watching them go about their typical hectic Gallagher business and occasionally shout something at him on their way by. He doesn't mind it, it's like it was at home. Everyone knowing he's there by his presence but being the typically overlooked middle child he's used to it. But he thrives in the chaos and strangely enough it's when he has some of his best ideas for how he's going to play out his next scene.

Monday goes as expected. It's at the end of his workday on his way out of the locker room that he hears it, that gruff voice that's unmistakable. It's coming from Kev's office. He must be here to sign his contract. Ian decides to be that creeper that stands outside the door, leaning all nonchalantly against the wall beside the door so he can just so happen to see Mickey when he leaves. It doesn't take a whole lot of waiting, he's pretty sure there wouldn't be much to a contract for a guy who solos only. He's probably not even held to the same testing standards as everyone else. It grates on ian's nerves that he's so insistent on solo acts. What he'd give to pleasure that hole raw. 

The door swings open with the rough nature that the guy exudes. He stops directly past the door and lights a cig. Something he hasn't see him do yet and he certainly doesn't smell like smoke.

"You smoke?" It's out of his mouth before he can process how stupid of an opener that is.

Mickey snorts, his entire facade when he's here is so much different than what Ian saw when it was just them the other day at the park, or that flirty guy at the bar from Friday night. He nearly tells him he can drop the act now, he's out of the building and he has no need to impress Ian. The way he carries himself exudes cockiness and sex appeal. Fuck, Ian is not sure which one he is more turned on by: this guy who is practically daring everyone who looks at him to fuck him, or the playful guy he witnessed on Friday, or the polite small-talker from the park. 

"Still stalking me?"

"Looks like it," Ian agrees shamelessly. 

Mickey takes off down the stairs like he's on some kind of schedule, attempting to dismiss the conversation but Ian isn't going to just let him walk away. He can grunt at him through his cig sucking mouth that Ian would kill to see wrapped around his dick, all he wants. Ian is not easily dissuaded. 

"So since we live in the same general area I would assume we're going to be seeing a lot of each other. And we work in the same building. So on the not so off chance that I'll be seeing your sister as well, I just want to be clear. She doesn't know it's porn, does she?"

"No." He answers unaffectedly and blows a puff of smoke skyward when he comes to a halt at a crosswalk. It's kind of a busy corner so the people bustling past him are something he braces himself for. 

"How would you feel about grabbing dinner sometime?" 

His head snaps in Ian's direction, glaring for a long moment while he sucks in his cheeks. "Like a date?"

"Yeah, like a date. Or, a you know, getting to know each other since we keep bumping into each other."

"Pretty sure dating coworkers is a pretty horrible fucking idea red."

"You work solo, so it's not like it matters when you think about it." Ian shrugs, then wants to kick himself for it when Mickey's brows rise because he knows he never told him that. "Or that's what I heard anyway. And since you were setting up last week alone, I just kind of assumed."

His brows drop slightly and he shakes his head. "I don't date."

"Coworkers?"

"Anyone. I work solo. I'd live solo if I could afford it. I'm just a solo kind of guy Curtis," he smirks at the name. So he must have watched something of Ian's if he knows his stage name. Okay, so they can blame this all on research. Knowing they've watched each other's videos. Pretending they didn't. 

He can take a brush-off as far as the date is concerned, but he can't handle not knowing more about this guy. "What about a work-out partner?"

"For what?"

"Working out? You know, like we can run together in Central Park, or lift together or whatever. Keep each other honest, motivate each other."

"That sounds real fucking horrible."

Ian snorts, "I'm a great work-out partner I'll have you know."

Now he side eyes him and there's still a layer of that cocky stage persona, but there's also something soft in his eyes when they meet Ian's. He seems skeptical, and decides to not trust Ian. "Fuck that shit, I do just fine by myself. Do I look like someone who can't keep myself honest on my workout schedule?"

"No, I'm just saying it's nice to have a partner sometimes, and it's safer really to be out running with a second person."

"I can take care of myself."

"I'm not saying you can't. Just saying, you know, safety in numbers or something."

"Whatever Curtis," the grin is sly when he stomps out his cig butt on the sidewalk and jerks his head in the opposite direction of where Ian's loft is. "This is where we part ways."

This is the most frustrating a person has ever been, Ian is pretty damn sure. "Okay, see you around at work or something."

"Work," he snorts and Ian wills his mind not to wander to the image of his fingers sliding in and out, in and out of his slicked up hole. Especially when he turns on his heel to head down the street, with a middle finger thrown over his shoulder.

"Asshole," Ian mutters. The next three blocks home he has to remind himself that he's just a coworker, just like any other coworker some of which are awful and insufferable, some of which are friends, easy to talk to and fun to fuck. And when he gets home he has to convince himself that he doesn't need to do anymore research on the new guy. He finds it strange however that when he lies down for bed it's still the image of Mickey's blissed out face when he cums around a fat anal bead that haunts his fantasies.

###

By Friday the talk inside the locker room is of the new guy with the chip on his shoulder. None of them have met him, except for Damon. He bumped into him in the hallway but doesn't have much to say about him other than, "I hear his second video grabbed two hundred more subscribers. He's going to hit a thousand by the end of the month at this rate."

"I don't see what's so special about him," Chester admits. 

Ian turns his back on his locker, sitting on the bench to pull on his socks and shoes. He's not going to contribute to this conversation. He's just going to listen. 

"Oh please." Cox flicks his wrist towards both of them as he pulls his phone out of his bag. He's got the latest video up quickly (one that Ian has not seen yet. He's been forcing himself not to think about him, not to research him, not to jerk off to him). "That ass," Cox sighs, puts a hand over his bare chest, "makes even a pillow princess like me want to top."

Ian can't see the screen from where he's sitting, but he hears the grunted moan that echoes out of the speakers and his dick immediately begins to fill. Adjusting himself in his pants and hurrying through the rest of the dressing process while the other three gather around Cox's phone to review the performance. There are a few comments at first, about lighting and filming being great, about angles being perfect. There's a gasp from Cox and something muttered about the toy he's about to use. When another guttural moan exits the speaker, Ian throws his bag over his shoulder and hustles out the door without so much as a goodbye. He has to get out of here, get home and check out this video in private. He has to know what his coworkers are talking about, what it is about Mickey that's so engaging on screen. At least that's what he tells himself. 

He doesn't check his phone, barely makes it though the door and into his bedroom to pull up his laptop before his dick is already full hard in his pants, yearning for the image of Mickey with his hole stretched on screen. Jerking out of his clothing as Mickey on screen is smirking his way through the pages of a Ball Kings mag. They don't sell many, but they still print them quarterly, they also sell a yearly calendar for those patrons that prefer pages with their porn. Ian already did this year's shoot for the calendar but his shoot for the next periodical is scheduled for the coming week. He's back with Owen for that. They'll be posing in various positions for their holiday themed spread. 

But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is the image of Mickey biting his lower lip as his dick swells and he wraps his fingers around it to tug it to full hardness. Spreading his legs where he's laid out on the bed for this scene. Showing the shadows of his hole when he cups his balls. Those silver rings like a ladder to the promised land gleaming with lube already. Ian licks his lips and settles in with his cock in his hand. 

'You want to top me Daddy?' Mickey purrs at the mag he has open against his thighs. Having drawn his knees towards his chest, both hands taking hold of his asscheeks, spreading them to show the camera his slicked up and half-prepped hole. He starts by sinking his index fingers past his rim, sliding slowly in and out, in and out. His knuckles glossy with lube. His bottom lip pinched tight between his teeth as he eyes the mag, then flicks his gaze towards the cam. 

'You want to get on me?' He asks the cam. Setting aside the mag to draw his legs up to his shoulders, giving the full view of his hole as he sinks index and middle fingers from both hands into his ass. Fuck it's hot. That stretch from four fingers, the in and outs. It's almost too much already and he hasn't even touched the dildo sitting beside him. Ian watches his dark pink balls draw up, tight and ready to cum just as Mickey draws his fingers out.

'I bet you do.' The corner of his lips twitch, his eyes are lust blown already and he's half-wrecked just from fingering himself. Ian could only imagine what tonguing him out would do. He pulls his cheeks open to show the cam his clenching hole. Ian wants to feel that, to put his fingers, his tongue, his cock inside that darkness and feel that pink ring clench around him until they're both cumming. 

'How about you just watch instead?' He turns to his knees, bows his back and puts the dildo between his thighs. He rubs the dildo between them a few times, where he's pressed them together, sliding the lube up and down the shaft, leaving it trailing across his pale skin. His left hand reaches back over his hip, fingers toying at his rim again before he slaps it and moans a hot and dirty moan. Pads of his fingers slapping down on his hole again and again. Dirty moans and garbled whines as his body writhes, his muscles tensing and relaxing while he puffs up his hole for the cam. When he spreads his thighs Ian imagines himself there, holding his hips, hands digging into his muscles and bones through his skin. He has to bite down on his tongue to keep from cumming hard and quick now. Waiting until Mickey has the dildo lined up to his hole. Clenching and yearning to be filled, he teases himself with the rounded head of it. It's on the large side of average but not as fat as Ian's cock. He keens when he presses the head of it through his rim then pulls it back out again quickly, showing off his clench again. Fuck that is hot. His free hand is slapping at his hole again, puffing it back up nicely.

Ian's dick is leaking precum all down his slit, over his crown and he knows he won't last though the end of this video but the release is sweet as Mickey pushes the dildo past his rim again, this time with a quick swoop into his hole until it's buried to the base. His hand releasing it as his hole clenches and spasms around it, holding it, sucking it in and then pushing it out partway. He doesn't release it though, his hand there to push it back in with another dirty moan that goes straight to Ian's cock that's twitching in his grip, coming down from orgasm. His jizz hot on his thigh where a few drops have landed. 

He takes a deep breath, lets the blur and white heat of orgasm recede as the video plays on but he forces himself not to look. He has to stop this. He cannot obsess over a coworker who has already made it pretty clear he wants nothing to do with him. Or anyone as far as he can tell.


	5. Five

The spread shoots are so fucking simple. Owen might not be Ian's type as far as boyfriend material is concerned, but damn he makes fucking so easy it's hard not to love being balls deep inside him. 

The video with Jody made last week's top five when it dropped. No surprise there. And when the photo shoot for the mag is over it's time for the Ball Kings holiday party before they go on a four week break. They'll come back from the break in time to shoot a Valentine themed film, edit it, and reshoot scenes before it'll be time for the Cocksuckers with a free week in Vegas to take part in Porn Week. Some stars participate in live showings - basically just fucking in front of a group of people who paid good money to watch it. Some stars are willing to partake in paid orgies. Ian is not going to do any of that in his first year at the event. He's going to take a backstage pass and watch some of the shows, he's going to do some shopping and mingling with high powered producers. Not that he ever wants to leave Ball Kings but some of the most well known porn stars come out of a studio in LA and he'd love to get their take on certain career aspects. 

He has made it his goal to stop snooping into Mickey's videos, to stop looking for him, or making himself seem available in any way when they do bump into each other at work. He heard through locker room echoes that he's got another two hundred or so subscribers and a VIP requesting him for parties already. It took Ian six months before he had any VIP requests. He has no idea what that means for a solo bottom, maybe this particular VIP just wants to put him on stage to masturbate. Ian's first experience at a VIP party was at a sex club upstate. It's not prostitution when it's porn stars fucking other porn stars in the walls of a mansion where some rich swinger or playboy hires them to put his other guests at ease by breaking the ice and getting the party started. And it's good money. 

Either way, he has not watched Mickey's latest video. Even if he overheard Foxy telling V that it was their top debut of the entire year. In it's first night getting more hits than any other video on the entire Ball Kings site. 

It's fucking on now. Ian doesn't give a shit how hot this cocky jerk is, you can't just walk into a studio and beat out the veterans in your third week. Fuck that shit. He must be boosting his total somehow. Ian needs to step up his game, maybe throw some income into advertisement or get more active on social media. It's all about marketing in today's world anyway. 

He pitches the idea of a podcast to Kev and V one night after-hours. A breaking the fourth wall kind of thing. Just porn actors hanging out with other porn actors talking about their favorite scenes, their most memorable moments, and the high of fucking on camera. Ian can easily get something up and running with Lip's help over holiday break. With V's blessing, he does. And he starts by having V herself sit in on a chat, discussing why she chose to film porn, how she got her business up and running from scratch. It's easy to fall into a chummy chatter with her, by the end of the half hour they've both talked about their personal experiences in the industry, loosened the potential audience up with some laughter and engaged them with the story of an inner city black woman making her way professionally through an industry that is typically a white man's game. And the story of an inner city gay kid who never felt like he had good queer guidance in life, finding his niche by filming porn. Maybe not exactly typical role model material but they're both here of their free will and their want to succeed in the industry that they both love. 

They launch the podcast the week before the Cocksuckers, Ian's plan is to air the second one - and interview with Owen - the week of the Valentine's specials. It'll pair well with their scene. A scene that has Ian sliding heart shaped anal beads in Owen's tight ass with rose petals on the bed and champagne chilling on the nightstand. It's easy to lose himself in it, as any actor gets lost in their work from time to time, easy to play the domestic lovemaking scene out like he truly does have feelings for Owen. Treating his hole with tenderness as he plunges the last heart shaped bead past his rim, watching his hungry hole swallow it up with a greediness reserved for pure bottoms. 

He pushes up gently on the handle, letting the bottom curve of the heart slip out just a little, stretching his rim and showing how much he can take as he twitches and shudders, letting out a moan of pure bliss. Ian pushes it back in as far as the handle, and tells him, "now keep that ass nice and loose for me," as he slides a hand up his thigh, fingering his balls and reaching around to tug his hard cock. He leaves Owen on the bed, on his hands and knees as is scripted, to fuck himself with the beads while Ian is off screen. 

He takes the moment to watch, to tease his cock and immerse himself in the moment. Even if his mind is wandering to what Milkovich might have planned for a Valentine scene. How he'd be able to make a solo act appealing to the people watching alone on such sacred of days for happy couples. If you ask Ian, he'd tell you the holiday is a crock of shit, but he has to act it out like it's the most romantic thing he could do with his onscreen partner so he doesn't let his mind wander to how he'll be spending the actual day in Vegas either winning or losing a Cocksucker, rubbing elbows with big names in the industry, and generally not giving a shit that he's single.

When Owen has the wand going at rhythmic motions, in and out, in and out, his head hanging low and his back bowed like he's near cumming, is when Ian has to step back into the scene and remind him, "no fair cumming first," taking the handle from his grip and removing the beads from his ass. Tossing the toy aside to plant both hands on his cheeks and show the camera his clenching and shuddering hole. Dark muscular ring giving way to pink insides that Ian holds open just long enough for his own cock to start twitching at the sight before he leans in to rim him. Rimming on camera isn't exactly easy, it's hard to get an angle that's both satisfying for the partner and has good visibility for the cam. Getting a good view on it typically means pulling back often, which is not something Ian likes to do in real life. In real life, he likes to rim the hell out of his partner until they're cumming, spurting hot jizz all over the sheets and clenching around his tongue. 

He slips a finger past Owen's rim, rubs at his prostate for a few strokes and then slips another to scissor him. He moans - one that Ian knows is real - and Ian feels himself smile smugly. There's a certain amount of pride in knowing you've accomplished true pleasure for your partner, enough pleasure that they've given in, forgotten about the cams and the lights. He leans forward to slip his tongue in between his fingers. Reaching with his free hand for the table, where the bottle of champagne is waiting to be popped. Pulling back his fingers from Owen's insides, working his tongue around his rim as he feels blindly for the bottle, popping it open while Owen situates himself to take the spray to his back. Letting it trickle down his spine and into Ian's waiting mouth. Champagne, flavored lube, and a hot wet hole it's enough to have his cock leaking precum as he suckles around Owen's rim for every last drop of champagne, feeling him arch against his face as he tips the bottle and pours himself another drink from the fountain of Owen's back before he draws himself away to pour Owen a glass. 

Owen is all smiles as he repositions to lounge back on the bedding and accept his drink. When it's cut for the night Ian props his head back, taking the last drink from the bottle with a sigh, "we sharing a room in Vegas?"

"I got me a plus one baby, sorry," Owen shrugs. 

"That sorry doesn't sound too sincere." Ian grins, poking at him with his elbow. "But tell me more. Meet him on holiday break?" 

Owen rolls his brown eyes with a fondness reserved for friendship in them when he responds, "please, you really think I'm that cheap that I'd bring some guy I just met along to Porn Week in Vegas? Just so I could have a hot guy on my arm when I accept my award for Best Bottom?" He winks at him with a sly smile, proving that is exactly what he's doing.

"Ouch, so you're saying I'm not hot enough to be your pretend boyfriend? But I am hot enough to be your onscreen lover?" Ian teases right back.

"That is exactly what I'm saying," he grins, pats Ian's knee and rolls off the bed with a sigh and stretch. "Ask V who hasn't roomed up yet, or splurge and get yourself some swaggy suite, let your hair down and bring home some skanky boys to throw that fat cock at. What happens in Vegas..." 

"Burns when you piss for days after," Ian finishes for him. He fucks for a living, hooking up with random strangers doesn't really appeal to him. But neither does going stag to the Cocksuckers. When he thinks about the rest of the Ball Kings, and having to spend the entire week with any of them, sharing a room, then splurging on a suite doesn't sound like a bad idea. 

###

Ian hunts down V the following day to see if she's got any rooming plans for any of the single guys. She's got a block of rooms reserved, but most everyone either has a plus one or is paired off already. She's got one guy though. "A new guy, he's not nominated but he's going for the press and we'd be idiots not to shine a spotlight on our new star. Maybe you've met him. Milkovich," she tells him as she hustles down the hallway towards her office. 

"Milkovich," Ian responds, trying to keep his voice neutral and act like he's never heard of him, never spoken to him, never masturbated to his videos. "We have a new guy and you didn't bother announcing it or having a welcome party?"

"He didn't want one." She pulls the door open and ushers him inside, "I can see if there's another room in the block we reserved, or you can get a hold of Mick and see if he's up for sharing, split the bill."

"He seem like a sharer?"

"No. But he seems like someone who isn't an extravagant spender." V answers honestly, scrolling through her contacts list for a moment, scribbling his number on a piece of paper and handing it over. "Now go get ready for your scene, you've got a long day of fucking today and a podcast to prepare." she reminds him as she jerks her head towards the door motioning that he get moving. 

"Yes ma'am," Ian responds, saluting her just to have her scoff in return.

###

"Milkovich, huh," Ian wonders towards his dinner as he thumbs the card with the guy's number on it, "what are the chances?" He nearly feels like he should call Mandy first and see what her thoughts are on the two of them possibly sharing a room at a porn convention in Vegas. But since he knows she's out of the whole porn loop with her brother then he'd have to know what Mickey was telling her he was going to Vegas for before he could talk to her about it. Also, she has no idea they work together so it'd be way too risky to pump her for information. So it's either call Mickey and tell him it was V's idea. Or just call the hotel and see how much a suite would be.


	6. Six

He chickens the fuck out is what he does. He doesn't call Milkovich and he doesn't call the hotel. He's working on the assumption that he'll check in and there will be one room left in the reserved block and he'll either have already been paired up with Mickey through V's doings or he'll be rooming alone. He supposes that the inappropriate crush he's been harboring for his coworker would make it better if he was alone, but the part of him that throbs with red hot want for Mickey's everything is really hoping for a roommate during the trip. 

It only makes it worse that they're sitting in proximity to one another on the flight. The flight rented for Ball Kings only so it's a party on a plane and barely anyone is staying in their designated seat so it's not like it matters except that Mickey is mostly keeping to himself, headphones on, laptop on the tray in front of him. Ian chances a few glances over his way and looks away before he can make eye contact, he has no desire to get busted staring. It's Chester with his attention whoring ways that decides to try making nice with the loner partway through the flight. Sitting down next to him with a glass of wine and pursed lips, flitting his hand over the laptop screen. Ian can't hear what he says over the music, but it's enough to make Milkovich take off his headphones and accept the wine. It takes about two minutes before Micky smiles and lets out a laugh that rises over the thump of the base, making Ian's chest feel too tight and a chill run down his spine. He closes his eyes to savor the sound, thinking it probably doesn't happen that often, or at least not when he's in his Terry persona. 

He doesn't dare get closer to them, but by the time they are about an hour away from landing, Chester has Mickey loosened up and chatting with a handful of other Ball Kings. They're smiling and laughing and Ian can't help but look.

###

The party bus that takes them from the hotel to the resort is brilliant, male strippers on board to get everyone's blood flowing in the right direction before they have to make their entrance at the convention. Kev insists that everyone get up and dance, or just generally move to shake some of the bloat out that happens with travel. He wants as many of them shirtless as possible. It's Vegas, and porn convention week, shirtlessness is expected. Ian doesn't mind it. He's never been much of one for modesty. 

He's got quite a wine buzz going by the time they enter the resort, but he's certain he's not the only one. They're expected to bring the party after all. V checks them all in and ushers their bags away with a bellman while Kev leads the crew straight to the night club where the party is already in full swing. There's another production company here already, and a lot of guests with their VIP lanyards. Ian has no qualms about it when he gets steered to the stage by Kev, he did strip for awhile when he first got to New York, so he's no stranger to that either. It doesn't slip his attention that Milkovich watches his dance. He might even play it up a little, extra hip jives and pelvis thrusts in his general direction. He's nearly certain the guy is blushing by the time Ian steps off the stage - much to the dismay of the crowd - promising he'll be back for another dance soon.

The rest of the night is basically a blur of naked torsos, bare legs, and sweaty bodies writhing on the dancefloor. Ian makes certain to keep Milkovich in his sights, taking note of the way alcohol seems to loosen him into that flirty guy he witnessed him being in the bar that one night. It prickles jealousy up his spine when he notices him turning on the flirt with a VIP who is very eager to talk to him and buy him drinks. But Ian doesn't let it dictate his actions, even if he places himself within hearing range. That's what fellow coworkers do for each other in this industry. Being a stripper, or a porn star, or even a prostitute for that matter doesn't make it okay for any random person to just touch you whenever they want; but a lot of people seem to think that if you sell your body on any level then it's up for grabs. 

The VIP turns out to be harmless, just some lonely middle aged guy who wants to chat for the most part. Of course it probably helps that Mickey is shirtless and it's easy to see he's cut as fuck and is probably no stranger to fist fights. Ian finds that hot as fuck. The way he looks like he could hand out a beatdown without batting an eye over it. 

Ian would rather stay down here and party the night away but V and Kev have enacted a curfew for the first few nights so that no one over parties right away and spends the rest of the week looking haggard and unattractive. So by two in the morning they're all riding the elevators up to the top floors, V doling out the room keys for the guys and their plus-one's or their fellow Ball King roommates. Ian holds his breath when she gets to him and jerks her head towards Milkovich, announcing that since they are the stragglers of the group that didn't bother getting their own rooms or bring dates, they'll be stuck together unless one of them wants to drop a few grand to upgrade.

Ian snickers at luck or fate or V, whoever put them together for the week. Mickey snags his key, looks Ian up and down without trying to hide it and then jerks his head towards the hallway that their room is down. Ian has a hard time containing his reaction, acting nonchalant about it all. If he acted the way he wanted to, he'd be cheering loud enough for the entire floor to hear him and since it's down to just the three of them here it would be pretty damn inappropriate to call attention to them. And just because he's still got his cocky Terry persona on, doesn't mean it means anything once the room door is closed.

"Alright," Mickey stands just inside the doorway eyeing the gorgeous high roller suite overlooking the strip with a kitchenette, a king bed, and a pull-out couch, a bigscreen and a sitting area. "Ground rules. You bring home a lay you let me know, I don't wanna walk in on that shit. Bed is mine. Couch is yours. The tv plays no porn. I sleep until noon. If you wake me up before then I'll kick your ass." With a very menacing look thrown over his shoulder, he's disappearing into the bedroom. Shortly there after, Ian's suitcase gets tossed out into the sitting room and the bedroom door slams.

"Fuck you if you think I'm going to sleep on the couch," he mutters to himself more than anything. Honestly he's so fucking tired he's pretty sure he'd crash just fine on the tile floor and it's not like he was actually expecting this guy to fuck him. Or even talk to him really. It's late. So for tonight, he'll let that go. But tomorrow at noon sharp, he's going to have to talk to this guy. And if he can't negotiate then he'll be the one dropping a few more k's to upgrade his room because Ian is not spending more money just because his roommate is a stubborn, private, uptight asshole. 

###

Fuck noon. And fuck ground rules. Ian wakes with a kinked neck and sore back, goes down to do his workout anyway and gulps down a protein shake for breakfast before storming back to the room with annoyance still filling him when he sees the bedroom door shut tight. So he does the mature thing. Cranks up the music, bangs around in the living area and then sings in the shower. It doesn't take that long, really, before Mickey is barging into the bathroom with a scowl on his face that Ian can't help but think is sexy. He glares at Ian through the clear glass shower panes as he pisses. Ian puts on a show for him. Shrugging at him like he has no idea why he's receiving a death glare right now before he gets back to sensuously soaping up his body. He turns his profile on where Mickey is still standing, but still makes a show of soaping up his junk. Knowing when to pull back so he doesn't get a hard on when the hottest guy he's ever been around is still in the vicinity.

He hears Mickey eventually snort over the sound of the water and hit the room with a door slam that rattles the hinges. Ian can't help the smug look that's plastered on his face, it's still there when he walks out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, calling out a, "good morning," to his roommate who is scowling at the coffee pot as it brews. Mickey responds with a middle finger and Ian nearly tells him he's too pretty to have permanent frown lines so he might want to start smiling more. 

Since he has no bedroom, he drops his towel in the middle of the room. Oils up his body with the stuff that Kev suggested for today's activities. He can feel Mickey's gaze on him, burning holes through him. Exactly what he wanted. He just hopes he's controlling the flush he can feel beginning to rise under his scrutiny. When he shifts his gaze to look over his shoulder at Mickey, those blue orbs dart away for a moment before his entire persona shifts and he puts on that thing that Ian has come to know as Terry. That cocky smirk as his eyes drive back over to Ian, looking him up and down while he's still naked, sucking his teeth for a moment before he licks his lips, takes a drink of his coffee and turns away with a healthy sway to his hips as he saunters over to the bedroom. He leaves the door open, baiting Ian to watch when he removes the t-shirt and shorts he slept in, tossing them over towards the bed. When he bends down to retrieve his work-out clothes from his suitcase, Ian sucks in a breath. Bending just enough to show a peek of his pink hole and a glimmer of silver from his piercings before he's back up, stretching to lengthen out his lower back muscles and show off the depth of them carved into his body. Arms splayed over his head, hands grasping each other while he sways a little to loosen up, then drops his tank over his head and that quickly covers the perfect target for a wet load of cum. Then he bends again. And Ian feels blood rushing to his naked cock. His mouth has gone dry watching the curve of his ass, the shadows of his cleft, and the perfect pink ring of his hole. Fuck. One leg lifts just enough to step into a pair of underwear and a sliver of his dark pink ball bag appears, another jolt of blood and electricity shake Ian's body when the second leg lifts and he's pulling the underwear up his legs. Fuck. Fuck. 

Fuck. Ian is fucked. He peels his eyes off before Milkovich can catch him staring, even if he knows that Ian was in fact staring. That was the whole point of the show, and Ian started it, Mickey just one-upped him. If it wasn't on before, it's fucking on for real now. This is fucking war. And Mickey is fighting a losing battle.


End file.
